


Fire over England

by greerwatson



Series: ITOWverse:  Autumn Holidays 2010 [3]
Category: RENAULT Mary - Works
Genre: Gen, Guy Fawkes Night, ITOWverse, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-05
Updated: 2010-11-05
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/pseuds/greerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The World War II characters begin to build a bonfire in order to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day at the Clubhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire over England

It was getting far too chilly for the usual cluster of philosophers on the porch:  they had instead ensconced themselves in the den off the library, with a pleasant fire to cheer the day.  Coming as she did from a more northerly clime, the Secretary simply shrugged on a light jacket and took her daily constitutional as always.  It was she, therefore, who was the first to spot the odd heap of broken wood.  No one happened to be around just at that moment; so she returned, puzzled, to the clubhouse.  What on earth was the house up to now?

*****

As it happened, it was Willis who had suggested trying a bomb site.  This required a measure of caution, lest they be taken for looters (the locals being even more to fear than the police); but, in this respect, it could be remarkably handy to be able to slip round a corner and go _elsewhere_.  Of course, they could only ferret round after work, then in the dawn light, and during their dinner hour.  Nevertheless, they managed to scrounge a quantity of broken wood, which was whisked across worlds and dropped on a stack that was visibly larger each time they saw it.  They quickly realized that they were not the only contributors.  Building a bonfire properly, however, requires a certain expertise ... at least if height is to be reached at the expense of ground space.  Familiar with the Bonfire Nights of yesteryear, Reg found the haphazard structure frustrating; yet none of them dared skive off for the whole day.  Then, in mid-afternoon, taking a quick break to drop off a one-legged chair, he found the architectural project had been taken over by a C.O. he hadn’t seen since leaving the hospital at Bridstow.

Dave seized the chair before he could break it up.  “No, wedge that leg at an angle,” he said briskly.  “That ladder back’ll provide support for several vertical—”  He broke off.  “Look for something with a bit of length, and we can tie the guy to it.”

Reg left the bonfire under skilful supervision; and Dave took care to resettle the  
chair firmly and check the stability of the rest of the construction.

“We don’t see _you_ here often!”

He turned to see the Secretary.  “Ah, well, you know,” he said awkwardly.  “It’s not that the place isn’t beautiful; but things are very busy in London right now.”

She knew he was referring to the Blitz.  She also knew that, like the other characters, he and the other C.O.s were quite capable of coming and going in a split second:  his words were meant as an excuse, rather than an explanation.  She rather suspected that he and the others felt morally bound to remain in their book, lest anyone accuse them of using the clubhouse as _further_ evasion of their wartime duties.  Labour must not only be done:  it must be seen to be done.

“What is this?” she asked, waving at her arm at the pile of rubbish.

He looked round, a little puzzled.  “You mean the bonfire?”

“Oh, we’re having a bonfire!” she exclaimed.  “How nice.”

“It occurred to us ... well, to _some_ of us ... that this clubhouse afforded the opportunity to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day.”

“Of course!” she realized.  “You can’t have a bonfire at night in your book, can you?  Because of the blackout.”

“That’s right,” said Dave.  “It will be good for everyone—time out from the war, a breath of normality.  Not to mention the fact that the children will have a wonderful time.”

With this, the Secretary could only agree.

“It’s a bonfire,” she announced, when she went back to the kitchen.  Arete was there, discussing recipes with Mrs Hackett.

“Of course,” said the latter; but she had to explain the history of the custom to the Athenian, and then again to the philosophers when she took them in a tray for their tea.

“How strange,” said Plato, “to memorialize for centuries the funeral pyre of a traitor.”

“I think,” observed Sokrates, “it is rather the death of Treachery that is celebrated, though Treachery given form in the person of this ‘Guy Fawkes’.”

Mrs Hackett returned to the kitchen, to inform Arete that building the bonfire would probably continue as long as there was fuel to find, or the night of the Fifth, whichever came first.  The Secretary went back outside to see how things were getting on.

As she came up, she was sure she saw four young men she didn’t recognize, dressed in much the same way as Derek, whose little licked-down moustache made him unmistakeable.  They carefully wedged armsful of long, narrow dead branches—mostly little more than brush—in around the scaffolding.

“Roger, Richard, and John,” said Dave, introducing them.

“And John,” said the fourth.  “‘With the bins’, that’s me.  You’d think we were all Welsh.”  He smiled.

“Where’d you get the wood?” the Secretary asked.

“Oh, round about the lanes,” said Richard.  “When Dave gave Derek a ring and told him what was going on, we knew we’d have the best chance of finding fuel for the fire, being in the country.”

They left, promising at least one more load before they had to get back for their evening duties.  The Secretary looked up at the seemingly unsteady—yet miraculously balanced—tower of flammables.  Then she slowly walked round, admiring the feat.  How many of them, she wondered, had been involved in the assembly?  Just those from _The Charioteer_?  Or were other books involved, too?

Dave had been following her as she circumnavigated.  “So, we’re having Guy Fawkes Day,” she said.  “Where are you planning to get the guy?”


End file.
